


islands where no islands should go

by DragonNinjaAri



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pirate, Established Relationship, Multi, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-11
Updated: 2012-04-11
Packaged: 2017-11-03 10:57:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/380638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonNinjaAri/pseuds/DragonNinjaAri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a cold night below deck, especially when one of her shipmates isn't sleeping where he usually does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	islands where no islands should go

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written December 8th, 2011. Prompt from tumblr user flashandthunderfire: ot3, THE ONE WHERE JO IS A PIRATE AND HER MAMA IS THE CAPTAIN AND EVERYONE ELSE IS THE CREW.

For some people, the rock of the ocean and creak of the ship would unsettle the mind, keep sleep from settling in, but for Jo Harvelle, it's something so familiar that it just reminds her of home; it's what soothes her to sleep at night. Never has she understood those who jerk awake at the scurrying of a little rodent stowaway or the shifting of a barrel.

What wakes her is the absence of warmth or the shifting of the tangle of bodies and limbs she's so grown accustom to. There's a rush of cool air on her left side and her eyes flutter open. To her right, Dean's scruffy face has settled into a dip in her shoulder. One arm loops around her neck to the empty left side of the bed, presumably where it had been intertwined with the hand of the space's former occupant. The other rests on her arm. Had he fallen asleep brushing his fingers over the new scar she has to show? It's likely. His slow breathing and light snore assures her he hasn't realized their other partner's absence, probably because it's her turn in the middle this time.

Carefully, Jo rises, first moving her left shoulder and letting her right slowly slide out from under Dean's cheek, eliciting only a mumble. He's probably tired. More tired than her, considering how much sleep she's gotten in the past day. Though she doesn't want to wake him, she can't help but press a gentle kiss to his temple. A breath passes her nose. He smells like rum and she just wants to dive into him, wake him up and kiss him senseless.

But no, other people need attending to, she assumes. She slips off the old mattress, so worn with use that it dips in the middle, and catches a waft of the ocean sea; the door's open just a crack. Having fallen asleep in her clothes, she doesn't need to collect anything to keep her warm and simply creeps up on to deck, like clockwork finding him, leaning against the ship's rail overlooking the sea, a long beige coat half-wrapping around his legs in the wind.

Castiel.

Jo walks right up to him. "Cas." He, surprisingly, doesn't seem to react until he hears her voice. While  _she_  doesn't startle from the sounds of the ship, the rather newer shipmate often does, turning at slight creaks. That, she presumes, is why he's awake right now.

A bit embarrassed by himself, he lowers his head slightly. "Jo. Forgive me, I woke and didn't want to disturb you."

She cracks a smile and lightly punches his arm. "What're you apologizing for, stupid? You're not being held captive, remember. You can do whatever you want."

Though sometimes she doubts that, sometimes she wonders if he feels trapped into this life because of his sister's decision to embrace it, if he's just staying there because after all these years, he's finally found his long-lost older sibling, the one who he'd assumed for such a long time had perished at sea. Sometimes she wonders if Anna left...would Castiel go with?

But his lips quirk into what she has by now gathered is his odd little smile -- boy's grown up in the aristocratic life, in a world where to smile is to show weakness or manipulate and he's the type who can't bare to manipulate without it eating away at him and destroying the kind soul beneath, another reason why Jo sometimes imagines him packing up and leaving one day, just like so many others -- and he's still apologizing, in his eyes at least, as he replies, "I woke you, didn't I?"

Jo shrugs, the thoughtful comment sending her hand to his shoulder. "Woulda woken up anyway. It's early morning, right?" The dawn is approaching; in the distance the gray night blends into light purples and oranges, the dullest but most beautiful of rainbows. It's going to be a good day, it seems. "Slept more than my fair share." But his face melts into a pensive frown, stealing the levity from the moment. "What? What's wrong?"

"You were very badly hurt yesterday," Castiel states, almost blunt but laced with concern. "How can you shrug it off so simply?"

After so many months, Jo'd thought he'd gotten used to this at least a bit... "Because I didn't  _die_. And besides, been through worse. A cut deeper could've put me out of commission for a long time, but you fixed me right up, remember?" She almost smirks at the memory of the duel, of the other crew who dared to think they could board  _this_ ship and get out without her mom and the rest of them sending them packing. An unexpected stab almost caught her in the stomach, but Castiel's warning saved her; it only pierced her arm, and then after he'd patched her on up. Really, what knocked her out were those fancy medicines they'd swiped a few weeks back, now that they finally had someone familiar with them on board who knew how to use them. "Don't worry. It all worked out alright."

Except Castiel doesn't appear consoled at all, staring at her for a long moment -- his scruff isn't as pronounced as Dean's, she idly muses in that moment, because he still tries to shave, still trying to hold on to something he's left behind -- and then turning his face to the ocean.

"...We can protect you, you know."

She doesn't know where she's going with this.

"We've all been doing this for years."

It's a desperate desire inside of her fueling it.

"Next time you can stay under the deck."

She just doesn't want him to leave.

"Don't even have to come out."

At this, Castiel starts and, in an impassioned whisper, one that grows and grows to something louder with every second, he insists, " _No_. I can get better with a sword. Or even a gun. I can use them, and I will help."

The crying morning gulls and the creaking of their old but reliable ship only accompany them, leaving the two in a silence -- for Jo, a stunned silence. He's never shown this much enthusiasm -- desperation? -- about their lifestyle. Never once. "Cas... What's this--?"

"What's this about?"

It's not Jo who finishes the question but Dean, rubbing his eyes as he approaches them, not at all appearing unhappy to be woken up, only worried. Still, a little pit of guilt starts in her stomach; she knows whenever anyone gets hurt, he spends more than his fair share of time worrying. If anyone needs the rest, it's him.

Castiel looks between them before settling on Dean, and Jo is grateful for his presence. Somehow it's easiest to share things when it's the three of them, their individual bonds with each other out-shined by this unspeakable, indescribable energy, so thick in the air that, at times, it nearly chokes her. "I am not made for the pirate life. Here, I am a burden. I distract you. I...endanger you."

_I'm useless._

It's plain on his face, and Jo rushes to speak first, stammering out, " _Cas_. Cas, you didn't distract me, you all but  _saved_  me. Don't. It was my own carelessness that got me hurt, not you."

Picking up on her train of thought, Dean adds, "I've _seen_  you use a sword. You're not some kid just picking one up; damn, you give Ash a run for his money. A little stiff, but you're not  _bad_  at fighting."

There's something that Castiel will never say, something about how he had so much more power in his family, could help them like he did that one time, when he got them out of that hanging, when he used his influence and the look on his face, how he'd just _lit up_  and how Jo wondered (and still does) how many times he's gotten to shine like that with so many siblings and such a dismissive family. There's something there, confirmed with his next words, with his quiet, "I don't want to just patch you up when you get hurt," that holds so much more than it appears.

(That boy who'd seen so much, not the world like they had, but a different one, no that man, that young man, who, like them, held darkness in his blue eyes, who agreed in a heartbeat to give up his cozy life for family, for this unspoken connection when his eyes met Dean's or her hand touched his, for this life so foreign to him, months ago she never would have understood what he'd come to mean to her, how he'd bridge this gap between her and Dean and how he'd just ease into their broken family.)

A ripple on the waves rocks the boat. This moment is broken.

In a move that surprises Jo, Dean moves first, pulling Castiel into what appears like a rough hug, though Jo knows so much better; he's always so careful when handling things he loves, Dean is.

"You," he says, muffled by Castiel's coat, but only slightly, each word emphasized, "are a great big fucking idiot. Don't ever think you're not needed."

Jo joins them, and both are holding tight to him in the pale morning light, a breeze wrapping around the embrace as if even the sea welcomes Castiel into this world, a world he'd been welcomed into almost eight months ago with a quiet  _are you my sister_  and the silent rule that family --  _family_  -- means more than anything on this ship.

And he's their family. Like it or not, he wormed his way in and they're not letting him go without a fight.

They don't stay there like that for long, of course. Emotional displays don't sit well with any of them, not really. The wind plays with Jo's hair, tickling her cheek with her messy locks and offering a welcome out to their little feelings-pile. After kissing Castiel's forehead briefly -- tenderly -- Dean clears his throat, the now-that's-done-let's-do-something-else-no-touchy-feely-stuff-guys signal she'd come to learn years ago, and mutters, "So c'mon. We can still catch a bit more sleep before Captain Slave-Driver gets up."

It's an old nickname that earned him a punch to the face from Jo and a week's worth of deck duty from the aforementioned Captain, Ellen Harvelle, Jo's mother; now it's just like he's calling her mom. Of course, Castiel appears just a little worried, still not quite accepting that Ellen won't jump out and make them clean the whole ship, probably. Jo staves off him voicing any of these fears by offering, "Tell you what, Cas, we can go over your form later today. I know Sam's been itching to show off that new move he learned from that Ruby, we can make it a group thing."

Before Castiel can answer, Dean's face darkens-- except it's more like a pout. "I don't like Ruby."

Jo pats him on the arm in consolation. "We know, Dean, we know." It's a reflex by now; when a mysterious one-woman-crew of a pirate goes around saving your brother's ass sometimes and tapping it others, it can get quite bothersome. It would probably relieve him to know that she and Sam haven't done the latter for months and a certain red-head actually draws her interest nowadays...but it's so fun to see him get all worked up over his baby brother growing into a man.

The smile's back on Castiel's face. "I would like that very much."

And as they walk back, it's he who's in the middle this time, Dean's arm over his shoulder, Jo's around his waist, and his dangling by his sides, the three walking in near-perfect synchronization.

Three broken parts fitting together.


End file.
